


Christmas, 1980

by ignipes



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-26
Updated: 2005-05-26
Packaged: 2017-10-03 03:04:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ignipes/pseuds/ignipes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry's first Christmas doesn't go exactly the way his mum hoped it would.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas, 1980

Lily exhaled slowly, leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. A sudden laugh from the kitchen startled her, but she didn't move. Most of the guests were gone; James' parents had just Floo'd home. Before leaving, Mrs. Potter gave Lily a kind pat on the shoulder. "Don't worry, dear," she had said, smiling sympathetically, "it will get easier."

Lily guessed that she wouldn't be expected to host Christmas dinner next year. She could only hope. She would perfectly happy if she never had to host another dinner party ever again. In fact, she would be perfectly happy if she never again had to move from this surprisingly comfortable spot, leaning against the wall, safe from the mayhem of the brightly-lit kitchen and all manner of exploding desserts.

Behind her, there were footsteps on the wooden floor. A pair of arms slipped around her waist, a chin rested on her shoulder, warm breath brushed across her neck.

Smiling slightly, Lily murmured, "You should be careful. James might catch you."

James snorted and tightened the embrace. "He never has to know."

"True enough," Lily agreed. "He's not very clever, anyway."

"Clever enough to marry you."

Lily rolled her eyes. "Oh, please--" She stopped abruptly. If James' arms were around her, then that meant--she tried to turn to face him. "Where's Harry?"

"He's fine. Relax. He's sleeping."

"Sleeping? He's _sleeping_?" Lily heard the slightly hysterical rise in her voice but didn't do anything to stop it. Two weeks of colds and ear infections, seven straight sleepless nights, and one long, cranky, tear-filled Christmas Day had convinced her that their precious pride and joy would never again allow his parents a moment's rest. That morning, when the smoke was billowing out of the oven and Harry was screaming like a banshee, Lily had decided that if one more person told her that difficult babies grew up to be wonderful children, she would not be responsible for any tentacles, welts, or painful rashes that occurred.

Just a bit petulantly, she said, "He doesn't sleep anymore. Our baby never sleeps. He doesn't know how. He's joined an international organisation of unsleeping babies, simply to spite us. He's not even a year old, and he's already a rebel."

"Well, he's sleeping now," James assured her. "Remus has him."

"Remus can keep him. They deserve each other. Anybody who shows up to Christmas dinner _barefoot_ in the middle of a winter storm for no good reason--"

She felt James' laugh rumble against her back. "I think there was a good reason, actually, but Sirius was laughing so hard the only words I could make out were 'toilet' and 'fangs'."

"Of course. Wherever your friends go, a toilet with fangs is sure to follow."

James kissed her neck softly. "Peter and Erin are cleaning up the kitchen."

Lily tried to twist away, but James held her tight. "They don't have to do that--I can go--"

"No, you don't," he said quietly. "Just relax for a minute."

"It's my house and my disaster--"

"Not a disaster." He kissed her again. "Just a little mess."

"It was a _disaster_. More than a disaster. What's something more disastrous than a disaster? A cataclysm!" Lily exhaled shakily and shook her head. "There are potatoes on the ceiling. The pudding exploded. There was a bonfire of dish towels in the sink! I'll never be able to clean the wine out of the curtains and that fork nearly took your father's eye out and whose brilliant idea was it to make homemade pumpkin juice anyway and I broke five teacups--five!--and my gravy burnt a _hole_ in the china and--"

James turned her quickly, lifted her chin and interrupted her with a warm, slow, gentle kiss. "And," he said, pulling back and smiling down at her, "everybody had a wonderful time."

"They were just being polite--"

He kissed her nose. "Lily, it's been months since I've seen my father laugh that much. Didn't you see? Nobody cares about the gravy or the potatoes. We had fun."

She wrapped her arms around him and leaned her head against his shoulder. "I just wanted everything to be perfect," she admitted quietly. "I wanted--It's our first real Christmas and--I wish Petunia had come." Her voice trailed off. "I wanted it to be perfect."

"You can't make her do anything she doesn't want to do."

"I know, but--I just wish--"

"Lily. It was perfect."

Lily looked up at her husband balefully.

"Well, it was memorable, at least," he amended quickly.

"I'm a lousy cook," Lily said, daring him to contradict her. "A miserable housewife."

"Yeah, you are," he agreed, but he was smiling. "Who cares? I'd rather have a woman who can invent seventeen Complex Conjuring Charms before tea than a woman who makes unexploding puddings."

Frowning slightly, Lily narrowed her eyes. "When did you get to be so good at this 'comforting husband' routine, anyway?"

"Oh," James waved a hand airily, "I've been practicing. D'ya think I have it down yet?"

"No," Lily said firmly. "You need to work on it some more."

"I do?"

"Yes."

"Oh." He looked thoughtful for a moment, then said slowly, "Perhaps I should be taking notes."

"Definitely. Now, where is our son, again?"

"In the hands of a werewolf who lost his footwear to a carnivorous loo."

"Right." Lily pulled away. "Why do all those motherhood books never mention the men with the shoe-eating toilets? You'd think there would be a whole chapter about shoe-eating toilets."

Lily took a few steps toward the kitchen, but James reached out and wrapped his arms around her again. Pressing a kiss to her hair, he whispered, "Happy Christmas, love."

Lily smiled. "I suppose," she said softly. "I suppose it is."


End file.
